


haunted by the ghost of you

by Aqua468



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Kidnapping, Peter Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Time Travel, endgame spoilers, i'm a sucker for angsty time travel fics, pretty self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-05-01 18:34:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19183405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aqua468/pseuds/Aqua468
Summary: A kidnapper takes Morgan Stark to the year of 2016. Peter follows.(Or: Peter sees Tony again and really needs a hug. Post-Endgame angst. Eventual spoilers for Far From Home.)





	1. one

It's half-past nine when Peter Parker pads out of his room, still wearing his pink Hello Kitty Pajama Pants™. There was a point in his life when he would've been mortified by this, but he now appreciates the little things that make him feel closer to Mr. Stark. It makes him feel just a little bit warmer. Besides, they were actually pretty soft.

Peter finds his way to the kitchen. Sunlight spills in though the window, basking the room in a comfortable, orange glow. Aunt May had already left for work, and the apartment is quiet. It's nice, as far as Saturday mornings go.

After fixing himself a bowl of cereal, Peter slumps into the sofa with his Froot Loops. He reaches for the remote, turns the TV on to a random channel for background noise, and gets to work on his cereal.

This, of course, is where things go wrong. A nice, peaceful weekend is too much to ask for, apparently.

The solemn tone of the reporter cuts though his morning grogginess.

_“The search for Morgan Stark is ongoing, but there has been no contact with the culprit so far. No demands have been made. The NYPD has-”_

His head snaps up, eyes wide. Slowly, Peter sets down his cereal, chilled by a gruesome sense of horror.

The screen shows crowds of people filling the streets, people refusing to let down the daughter of the man that saved the universe. Peter would've been glowing with pride for the people of his city, but it's overshadowed by the fact that-

_Morgan._

He tears down the hallway back to his room, finding his phone on his desk.

Four missed calls from Happy.

Two missed calls from Aunt May.

One missed call from Ned.

Two missed calls from Pepper.

He calls Pepper, and presses the phone to his ear. She answers almost immediately.

 _“Peter-”_ she starts, her voice hoarse from crying.

“What happened? What can I do?”

 _“Peter, the police say that the man's name is Matthew Lantz, but they can't find him. They think he's in New York, in the city. The others are out looking, but I-”_ Pepper's voice breaks.

“I'll find her,” he says resolutely. “I'll find her.”

His hands are shaking, and he doesn't know if it's from fear or anger.

Peter puts on the suit.

* * *

 

He finds her.

It's the following night, and in a cruel twist of fate, Peter finds himself atop of what used to be the Avengers Tower. It's old and dilapidated, having been left to rot for five years, abandoned by the new buyers.

The city glows softly beneath him, the lights arranged in intricate patterns below. It's raining- because of course it is- and Peter is tired and angry in a way he hasn't been since Uncle Ben died.

The goon is dangling Morgan over some sort of portal by her ankle, and she's kicking and screaming, but alive. She sees him first.

“Pe- Spider-Man!” She cheers. She's wet and dirty and still in her princess pajamas, but she's okay.

The man startles, and turns toward Peter. His frown deepens, and his eyebrows furrow. The mans hair and suit are soaked and sticking to is body.

“Put her down,” says Peter, putting his hands up placatingly. He takes a tentative step forward.

“Tony Stark wronged me, and now that he's dead,” he spits, “I missed my chance to get even.”

Oh okay, guess we're jumping right into it.

Peter lets the man talk, trying to think of a way to get to Morgan without letting her get dropped into the ominous-looking portal.

“He saved your life,” Peter says in an attempt to reason with the man.

“He _ruined_ my life!”

And Peter knows that Mr. Stark was not a perfect man, but he doesn't want to know what Mr. Stark may or may not have done- he's tired. The conversation hurts too much, and Peter just wants to get Morgan and go _home_.

“Whatever he did, she has nothing to do with it! Please,” pleads Peter, voice breaking, “put her down.”

He doesn't, because that would be too easy.

Instead, without breaking eye-contact, he drops her. Peter surges forward, feet almost sliding on the slick rooftop, and dives after Morgan without hesitation.

He reaches out and tightly wraps his arms around her, one hand protectively over the back of her neck. She latches on, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck and burying her head in his shoulder. They tumble. Several times he thinks she'll be ripped from his grasp, but he holds on, hoping he's not crushing her.

He lands on his back, and his head slams into the dry concrete surface below. His ears are ringing and he's wheezing from having the air knocked out of him, but he spares a moment to be thankful he broke Morgan's fall.

The moment doesn't last.

Morgan is pulled from his arms. Sluggishly, but not without dread, Peter realizes that the man followed them through.

Peter tries to sit up, but he can hardly function. His limbs aren't doing what he wants. His back protests sharply when he shifts to move. Everything's so _heavy_. Through cloudy vision, he watches helplessly as she's carried away.

Before he drifts off completely, he's just lucid enough to see two figures come into his field of vision. They keep their distance, slow and careful in their approach.

He has just enough time to wonder if his head injury from the fall was fatal, because he swears that one of the men is Tony Stark.

Peter drifts off.


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this part takes place after Civil War, but before Infinity War. We're uh, gonna pretend that there was a point in time when everyone was relatively cool with each other.

Peter wakes up and promptly regrets it. Bad move. Mistake #1.

 

Immediately, he realizes that he's cuffed to a chair by his wrists, which is Not Ideal. However, he supposes that the chair isn't entirely uncomfortable, so it could be worse.

 

He also realizes that he's not in his suit anymore, which is also Very Not Good.

 

He tries not to freak out. He's still groggy and heavy from sleep (did that count as sleep?), which kinda helps. He fights through the fog, trying to remember what brought him here. Why are his head and spine so sore?

 

Eventually, after minutes of internal debate, he peels his eyes open.

 

He glances down at the cuffs and flexes a little, but they hold. Dammit.

 

“I wouldn't bother, those cuffs are strong enough to hold Captain America.”

 

Ah, he's not alone.

 

He looks up, where he finds Nick Fury. (Yikes!!)

 

Behind him is a mirror, which Peter's sure is one-sided. The walls are white, and the room is well lit. A camera blinks at him from above the doorway on the far right side. He recognizes it as the rarely used interrogation room in the tower. Though, he never thought he'd find himself on this side of the mirror.

 

Lovely.

 

He'd be worried that he wasn't wearing a mask, but this was Nick Fury. Nick Fury, like Baskin-Robbins, always finds out. He probably already knew.

 

“Listen, Mr. Fury Sir, the cuffs really aren't necessary. I'm not here to cause any trouble.”

 

“Then,” interjects another voice, “you won't mind answering a couple of questions.”

 

The voice.

 

Peter knows that voice.

 

It's sunk into something low and dangerous, something that's never been directed at Peter before. It almost stings, but Peter's far more concerned with who the voice belongs to. His stomach drops, and a chill crawls up his spine.

 

Peter turns, and there he is.

 

He's in a dark-blue jacket, sunglasses tucked into the right pocket. He looks younger. He looks angry.

 

“Mr. Stark,” he breathes. This isn't real. It can't be.

 

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.

 

“You're not Peter Parker,” he spits. He grabs the front of Peter's shirt, and yanks him forward. “I don't know who you think you are, but you're not him, so don't act like it. If you think I'm just going to let you steal his face, you're wrong.” He lets go of Peter's shirt, and takes a small step back, somewhat regaining his composure. “So, who _are_ you?”

 

He doesn't know what to say to that, so Peter stares at him, wide-eyed and lost. Peter doesn't know how to process this. He feels like the air has been knocked out of him, just like when he first got here with-

 

_Morgan._

 

“The girl? Where is she?” Asks Peter, breathless.

 

Nobody responds. They're thrown off by the sudden change of subject, but Peter's on a warpath.

 

“Where's Morgan?” He asks, putting more force into his words. “I know this building has security cameras on the roof, you saw what happened. _Where is she?_ ”

 

“Kid, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down.” Someone puts a hand on his shoulder.

 

Peter frantically turns toward the source of the voice before going still. Something was wrong.

 

The voice belongs to Rhodey (was he here the whole time?), who Peter is currently eye-level with. Peter looks down to see a sleek silver wheelchair.

 

“Mr. Rhodey,” says Peter, slow and uncomprehending. “Your legs.”

 

“What about my legs?” Asks Rhodey, eyebrows furrowed.

 

Why was he in a wheelchair? Where were his braces?

 

Something dawns on Peter. An idea. A theory that he hopes more than anything isn't true.

 

“What-” he starts, really wondering if he's actually gonna say this out loud. “What year is it?”

 

Silence. Eyebrows around the room are raised.

 

“Okay, so he's crazy,” says Rhodey.

 

“Humor me.”

 

“2016.”

 

Peter looks at the ceiling and wills his spirit to leave his body. He wants to cry.

 

“Are you suggesting time travel?” asks Mr. Fury, one eyebrow raised. 

 

Peter shrugs, internally cursing the universe for doing this to him.

 

“You don't believe me,” murmurs Peter. What can he say?

 

What is he _allowed_ to say?

 

He looks at Mr. Stark willingly for the first time this entire conversation. He wills his voice to not shake. “The suit. My suit. It's StarkTech, you know it is. You just haven't built it yet.” Peter suppressed a wince at the half-truth. 

 

Mr. Stark looks back at him, and after one scrutinizing moment, narrows his eyes mistrustfully.

 

“Call in Wanda.”

 

_No._

 

Peter closes his eyes and leans his head back against the chair, panic fluttering in his stomach.

 

Like, he guesses he can understand _why_ they want Wanda to check. Some guy shows up on your roof through some magical portal, of course you're gonna be careful. Peter can't fault them for that, especially with what he's claiming. But still, it doesn't make the idea of someone shuffling around in his head any better.

 

The door clicks open, and Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch herself, steps in. Peter guesses that she was one of the people on the other side of the one-way mirror, because it doesn't take long at all for her to arrive. She's wearing a burgundy hoodie, and she looks well. She looks lighter than the last time he saw her, less weighed down. The realization makes him sad.

 

Wordlessly, Wanda crosses the room. She gently presses her middle and pointer fingers to Peter's left temple, and he's-

 

_He's sitting in the lunchroom, sandwiched between Ned and MJ._

 

_He's working with Mr. Stark in his lab._

 

_He's dosing off during Empire Strikes Back, his head heavy on May's shoulder._

 

_He's in his bedroom, pulling on the suit._

 

_He's on a planet dipped in orange, where gravity doesn't work quite right. Peter's watching his fingertips crumple, clinging to Mr. Stark. Peter is rotting from the inside out. He doesn't want to go-_

 

_And then he's back._

 

_He's standing there, bones aching and vision wavering, watching Thanos' army crumble to ash. The form of who used to be lingers for just a moment, then collapses, no more than dust in the wind._

 

_He's holding Mr. Stark's hand. The right side of Tony's face is black and charred, and the light of his reactor is flickering weakly. He can hear Mr. Stark's faltering heartbeat. Peter's crying, words are spilling out of his mouth. He-_

 

_He's being crushed, he can't breathe. The concrete is pinning him, and the air is thick with dust. Peter can't- He can't-_

 

_Uncle Ben is bleeding out on the sidewalk-_

 

_Peter's at Tony's funeral. He's standing next to Pepper, who holds a sleeping Morgan in her arms-_

 

Something snaps. He hears the sharp sound of metal twisting and breaking. When he comes to, he's huddled in the far corner, tucked between the ceiling and two walls. His heart's in his throat, and he's taking in large, gasping breaths.

 

Through his panic, he hears the click of a gun being cocked, and his spider-sense spikes. He feels like he's going to throw up.

 

He forces his eyes to focus, and sees Nick Fury point a gun at him. Mr. Stark's iron-glove thing is on, charged, and ready to exterminate.

 

Peter, to his mortification, feels tears well up in his eyes.

 

“Wait!” Wanda throws herself between Peter and the rest, hands up. Her voice shakes and her hands are trembling. “He's telling the truth! He is who he says he is.”

 

The room stills.

 

“He- He is?” Mr. Stark falters, lowering his hand. Nick Fury hesitantly reholsters his gun.

 

Wanda nods.

 

“Jesus, kid,” he says, running a hand through his hair. He looks stricken. And tired.

 

“Peter, come down?” Wanda asks softly. Peter notices that her eyes are shiny with unshed tears.

 

 

He scrubs the heels of his hands into his eyes, willing himself to calm down. His heart is still pounding, but he climbs back down to the floor, avoiding eye-contact.

 

“Call in the team,” Wanda tells Mr. Stark, nodding to the one-sided mirror. “We need to find the girl.”

 


	3. three

After Peter had got bitten by the spider, his entire life had changed- more than just the fact that he started wearing spandex and jumping off buildings.  
  
His entire perception of the world was dipped into something richer and brighter. Colors were suddenly bolder and and aggressively vivid. Scents and sounds became stronger and louder.  
  
In a lot of ways, Peter loved it. Experiencing the world this way gave him a new, deeply sincere appreciation for the little things. However, it took weeks to adjust to the overload. School was an absolute nightmare. It was like his senses were dialed to eleven, and all the new details were dizzying and painfully intense.

  
Which means, as Peter sits among ghosts, he's forced to drink in every vibrant, excruciating detail.  


Peter sits on the sofa, and everything's tinted in a dreamlike quality. This is, without a doubt, the most surreal moment of Peter's life. He's thought that before- finding out he can climb walls, watching Ben die, fighting with the Avengers at an airport in Germany- but this one tops the rest.

  
Mr. Stark is alive and well, currently sitting a few feet away from Peter. He's wearing an old, faded red ACDC shirt. To Peter's dismay, he looks tired and disheveled, more so than usual. He thinks that Mr. Stark is pretty spooked; he won't meet Peter's eyes. He's draped himself over one of the light-gray armchairs that surround the coffee table in the center, looking anywhere except Peter.

 

Peter can smell his familiar blend of coffee and aftershave all the way from his spot on the sofa. It makes his heart ache.

 

Off to his left is Captain America. He's so _young._ Old Man Cap was still a force to be reckoned with, but this was _Captain America._ Peter remembers coming through Strange's portal, seeing him stand alone against Thanos. It was bad. Cap looked beaten to hell. His iconic shield was thrashed. Mr. Stark and Thor were both down. But there he was, still ready to stand up and face a fight he had no chance of winning.

 

What a _mad lad._ It was hard not to be starstruck.

 

Cap sits in another one of the armchairs, leaning forward with his arms resting on his knees. His hands are clasped together tightly. He's lost in thought, staring worriedly at the wooden floor.

 

The rest of the Avengers are spread around the room. Wanda sits next to him on the sofa, which Peter is infinitely grateful for. Vision, another ghost, has placed himself on her other side. Rhodey's wheeled himself over to Tony's right, silent but supportive. Opposite of Peter is another sofa. Hawkeye sits there, his obnoxiously cool black boots resting on the coffee table in the center. Behind him is a large window, offering a great view of the city skyline. Mr. Fury stands by the window ominously, only a silhouette against the brilliant orange of the sunset.

  
Cap and Mr. Stark sit on opposite sides of the room, a detail which is not lost on Peter.  


If he has his dates correct, the Sokovia Accords and subsequent "Civil War" happened a few months ago. Rhodey was still getting used to his braces, hence the wheelchair. By Peter's time, the rough transition period had passed, and the wheelchair wasn't needed anymore.

  
The rogue Avengers were in town for negotiations. Very tense negotiations.

Peter never heard about this meeting the first time around, so he assumes that this was kept pretty low-key. The very concept of this meeting seems tedious already, wanting to avoid any more complications was understandable. After all, this was the ugly aftermath of a fight between the most powerful people on the planet. This is a grudge that Peter knows Mr. Stark held onto. The price of reconciliation was a couple years of space and the death of half of all living things in the universe.

  
But apparently, a strange, time-traveling kid was just bizarre enough to get them to put aside their differences, at least for a day or so. Yippie.

  
Despite the temporary truce, the room is painfully tense.

 

The bad blood and the unsettling emergence of time-travel both dampen the mood. Things thawed out a bit after concluding that Peter wasn't a threat, but they're still wary. Nobody in the room is speaking. Peter's never been more uncomfortable in his life.

  
"I can't believe how itsy-bitsy Spider-Kid actually is,” says Sam Wilson, making his grand entrance into the room. “He's got the Bambi-eyes and everything."  


Oh yikes, secret identity. Sorry younger-self.

  
"Didn't stop you from getting curb-stomped at the airport," shrugs Peter.

 

“Ooh, so that's how it's gonna be? Here, before you get even more cranky,” Sam chuckles, offering Peter a bright, yellow mug. It's SpongeBob themed. Geez, where did he find this thing? There's no way he found that in the tower. Peter's almost impressed.

 

Peter reluctantly takes the mug. It's warm in his hands. He takes a tentative sip, and is pleasantly surprised by the taste of hot chocolate.

  
A small flood of appreciation warms Peter. An average conversation with Sam usually involves taunts and banter, so it throws Peter off a bit for him to act this concerned, even if it's subtle. Sam is unexpectedly soft.

 

Huh.

 

“Man, I can't believe I was throwing hands with a twelve year old. Did you have to bring a permission slip to Germany or what?” Sam takes a seat to Peter's right, collapsing into the sofa.

 

“Woah buddy, I explicitly remember being 15.” Peter allows himself to melt into the conversation. He leans back into the sofa, willing the tension to drain out of his body.

 

“Yes, 15 is _so_ much better. My bad.”

 

“What? Are you bitter that you got beat by a 15 year old?”

 

“That's an exaggeration.”

 

“Is it though?”

 

“Shut up.”

 

Peter smiles and takes another drink of the cocoa.

 

“So, what's your name kid?”

 

Peter guesses he wasn't one of the people behind the one-sided mirror, listening in when Mr. Stark exposed his full name. Or maybe he was, and is just being polite.

 

Peter knows he trusts too easily sometimes, but this was Sam Wilson, the next _Captain America_. He figures that he should be able to trust him.

 

“Peter,” he relents. “Peter Parker.”

 

“Sam,” replies Sam, holding out a hand to shake. Maybe it's just his imagination, but something about Sam's gaze is almost tender. It's throwing Peter for a loop.

 

Peter chuckles awkwardly. “Nice to officially meet you, I guess. It's funny, I never-”

 

Natasha.

 

The Black Widow herself steps into the room. She's wearing an olive green jacket over a dark top, her newly dyed blonde hair curling just beneath her chin. Peter never finishes his sentence.  


Natasha Romanoff was one of the most intimidating people he'd ever met, but she was always kind to him. He missed her, even if he wasn't especially close with the woman. On the odd nights he'd spend at Tony's, she was a good partner for a conversation on a sleepless evening.

 

She was intense but kind, secretive but sincere. She's _gone._

 

Clint told the story of what she did at her funeral, his voice unsteady. Ned, MJ, May, Peter himself, _everybody_ would still be gone if not for Natasha. Seeing the memorials of Tony around the world is haunting for Peter, but he's still proud that Mr. Stark is remembered and revered. He wishes that Natasha received the same level of recognition. It's tragic that her sacrifice isn't nearly as honored, in Peter's opinion.

 

His heart stutters at the sight of her.

  
  
"What's wrong?” calls out Clint with a voice full of mirth, contributing to the conversation for the first time. “You look like you've seen a ghost."

  
  
A heavy chill settles in the room. He feels Sam tense up beside him.

  
  
It takes a moment for Clint to realize the weight of that sentence. His face falls.

  
  
"Wait-"

  
  
"Clint," cuts in Mr. Rogers, eyebrows raised in concern. He's pale, his voice unsteady.

  
  
"Yeah, I think I'm gonna have to side with Cap on this one, as much as it pains me,” hastily adds Mr. Stark. “. . . I don't think time is something we should mess with. That's a pretty serious line to cross. We need to be careful."

  
  
Peter finds this interesting, considering that Mr. Stark would later go on to _invent_ time-travel.

 

The snap really did change everything, huh?  


Natasha, for her part, looks only mildly concerned. She strides across the room, taking a seat next to Clint. He grips her hand

 

“Something was bound to happen eventually, especially in our line of work,” she says in a voice that's way too calm for this kind of situation, her gaze wandering the ceiling. “We can worry about this later, we should focus for now.”

 

The room stays quiet for a few minutes, time having gone slow and stiff from the grave revelation.

  
  
"So,” says Sam in a forced-casual tone. “What year are you from?"

  
  
"2023."

  
  
"Seven years? You're _22_?" Asks Mr. Stark, incredulously.

  
  
"No," says Peter absently. "It's uh . . . It's complicated."

  
  
"Uncomplicate it." Thanks, Mr. Fury. That really helps.

  
  
"I- I don't know if I should- what I should-”

  
"Peter,” Wanda says, turning to him, clutching his hand in hers, “please consider consider telling us.”

  
  
"Wanda," says Steve gently. "We shouldn't-”

 

"You don't know what I saw," she says, voice steely. "You wouldn't _believe_ what-"

  
  
"Wanda," pleads Peter.

  
  
Wanda pauses. She continues after a moment, softer this time, but every bit as desperate.

  
  
"Give him the choice to change things. If you saw what I saw, I promise that you'd agree with me. We can't let those things happen."

  
  
Peter thinks about that for a moment.

 

Of course it would be nice to avoid everything that happened. The trauma, the _deaths_ -  


But would giving them a heads up make things worse somehow? Is that a change he's willing to take?

  
If what Bruce told him is accurate, changing things here won't change his present. This new set of events would cause a split, creating a new alternate future. An alternate reality.

 

Maybe he could spare this reality from Thanos.

 

Maybe things could go horribly wrong.

 

But maybe, just maybe, there could be a a universe where the world doesn't have to live without Tony Stark. Without Natasha Romanoff. Without-

  
"Who knows what would happen?” Argues Mr. Stark, starting to get worked up. “That's a _huge_ risk-”

  
"I'll tell you."  


Mr. Stark does a double take.

  
"Kid, we can't just use time travel to fix-”

  
"You guys did."

 

Everyone in the room sits up straighter at that response.

 

"Excuse me?"

  
"We _what_?"

  
  
"Things get really bad, Wanda's not exaggerating. You guys were desperate enough to use time travel to fix things. I could try and save you the trouble, if you'll let me.”

 

The room is quiet, trying to wrap their heads around it. Mr. Stark's face has gone slack, Rhodey's eyebrows are raised higher than Peter thought possible, and Hawkeye looks about ready to get up and leave. Peter's never seen Mr. Fury look this disgruntled, which gives him just a _little_ bit of pleasure.  


Peter takes this opportunity to continue.

  
“I've talked to Bruce about it. If what he says is true, changing things here won't change my future. It'll create another alternate timeline.” Peter pauses for a moment. “You guys deserve a chance to avoid what's coming."  


“We find Bruce?” asks Natasha, a gentle lilt of hope in her voice.

 

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Are you guys actually hearing this?” Says Clint, on the verge of freaking out. “This is _crazy_.”

  
  
"I'm not kidding. And besides, me being here is already changing things. Let me help."

  
  
Tony and Cap share a long look, where Cap hesitantly nods his head.

 

“Okay, kid,” sighs Tony, resigned. “What's there to know?”

  
"After. After we get Morgan." Peter stipulates.

 

“Alright,” Cap says.

 

“Boss, we have a problem,” warns FRIDAY, her sharp voice interrupting the conversation. The television hung on the far wall flickers on, already open to the news channel.

 

It's the man. Lantz. The camera's shaky, but Peter can still tell that they're on the roof of one of the taller buildings in the city. He turns the camera around, and focuses the shot on Morgan. She sits on the ground, her arms restrained behind her. She's been crying.

 

“Tony Stark,” he spits into the camera. “Come get me, or the girl dies.”

 

Peter's on his feet in an instant, heart already pounding.

 

“I need my suit.”

 


	4. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually get so excited to post the chapter that I forget to write notes, but I'm making an effort this time 
> 
> Sorry for the wait!! I don't write super often, so I'm trying to figure out how to make each chapter a little better than the last. On the bright side, this chapter is almost as long as the rest of the chapters combined. I was high on the rush of validation hahah, so thank you for the comments and thank you for your patience :)
> 
> Beware, a Far From Home spoiler is mentioned!!

He needs his suit.

  
  


“That's her. Morgan,” says Peter to the quiet room.

  
  


He jerks his head towards Steve and Tony, but they're still coming to grips with the situation. Still processing. Who is this person? What are their motives? You know, asking questions they didn't have time to answer.

  
  


“Peter,” says Natasha, “Who is she? Why her?”

  
  


Her gaze is sharp and piercing, as if she already suspects the answer to her question. He shares a glance with Wanda, who looks horrified. She understands what's happening here, who this is that's being threatened. Peter would answer Natasha's question but–

  
  


“There's no time, we need to go,” he pleads.

  
  


Peter's skin is crawling; the man's message is ringing in his ears and the image of Morgan is burning in his head. He feels sicker and sicker the longer he waits and he knows it's only been a few seconds but this is _important_ and he's just standing here waiting while Morgan's out there _hurt_ –

  
  


The group takes too long to respond, so Peter takes off sprinting towards the elevator door and punches in the ‘down’ button about twelve times.

  
  


“Kid– Wait–” calls Sam.

  
  


It's taking too long. A few moments later, he finds himself slamming open the door to the stairs and throwing himself over the railing. He lets himself free-fall for a few stories down the center of the spiraling concrete stars before grabbing the railing with his left hand, causing a loud, echoey _clang_. He pulls himself up and rushes onto the new floor, continuing his crusade.

  
  


He heads for the vault where Tony keeps (kept?) confiscated materials and other odd knick-knacks won from various battles and scuffles over the years. It's always felt like more of a trophy-case to Peter with the way things were proudly displayed in pristine, glass cases, but Mr. Stark was just kinda extra like that.

  
  


Navigating the tower comes easy to him. It almost feels like he's walking through a graveyard, plagued with unsettling nostalgia. Although startlingly familiar, this building is a monument to everything that's changed in Peter's time. 

  
  


He suppresses that last thought and turns another corner.

  
  


Upon arriving at the entrance to the vault, he slides to a stop. Peter smashes the entry code into the keypad. The 'enter' key cracks when he ruthlessly jabs it in with his thumb. He rushes into the room and locates his suit without much trouble.

  
  


By the time the others catch up to him, he's already slipped into his suit. He blows past Cap and Hawkeye, who've just made it inside the doorway to the vault. They call after him as dashes to the end of the hall and pulls open the window.

  
  


“I'll meet you there!” he calls back. They gape as he dives out the window of the 43rd story, as one does.

  
  


The sun has set, but the clouds are still alight in a deep red-tangerine alpenglow. Dark is rapidly approaching.

  
  


Pater hardly remembers the swing over, but he lands atop the building within minutes. It’s one of the more expensive, well-known buildings, making it easy to locate. A crowd of onlookers, media professionals, and police have gathered at the base of the building. They peer up from below in anticipation, cheering at the arrival of Spidey.

  
  


Lantz turns to face him, looming dangerously over Morgan, who sits by his feet. He clutches a black pistol in his left hand.

  
  


"Spider-Man," he glowers.

  
  


“Spider-Man!” Morgan cheers.

  
  


The sharp _clank_ of the Iron Man armor landing sounds out from behind Peter- a sound Peter never thought he would hear again. He fights to not tear up. Morgan gasps.

  
  


"Tony Stark."

  
  


“Hey, yeah, am I supposed to know who you are?”

  
  


"You don't know me yet, but you will,” Lantz threatens. He roughly grabs Morgan's upper arm and drags her to her feet. She yelps.

  
  


“Ah, how ominous,” says Tony, walking up to stand beside Peter. “Listen, I know you're pretty pissed, but are you sure we can't work this out some other way? Preferably without involving the girl? The whole 'I'm mad at Tony Stark so I'm gonna throw a tantrum and become a dangerous criminal' is waaay overplayed.”

  
  


Peter can agree with that. He already dislikes the parallels between this guy and Mysterio. How many have come after Mr. Stark? He hates that they won't give him peace, even after he's dead. And even if Mr. Stark was tangentially or even fully responsible for whatever this guy was mad about, Morgan didn't deserve this.

  
  


Lantz wordlessly points the pistol at Morgan in response to Mr. Stark. Peter tenses.

  
  


The door to the roof opens, signaling the arrival of the rest of the group. Cap steps out onto the roof, shield help up defensively. Black Widow and Scarlet Witch follow close behind. Vision materializes next to Wanda. Falcon lands off to Peter's right. He doesn't see Hawkeye, but Peter assumes he's around somewhere finding an advantageous position.

  
  


It's a stalemate; no one can act while Morgan's at risk.

  
  


The guy looks about ready to launch into his prepared Evil Monologue™ (which Peter's sure is incredibly interesting), but before he can begin, Peter spots something behind him. A flash of red.

  
  


It's Spider-Man, Peter realizes. Fifteen year-old Spider-Man from 2016.

  
  


Lightning-quick, Spider-Man snags Lantz with a web yanks him back a few feet. He loses his grip on Morgan and stumbles to the ground

  
  


It's a good a que as ever to get things started.

  
  


Everyone surges forward, but Lantz is back on his feet far too soon. With a grandiose wave of his hand, he opens a wide, expansive portal. A group of people clad in black body armor spill out onto the rooftop, armed.

  
  


The team might not be at their best, but they were a force to be reckoned with.

  
  


In this time, Iron Man is _alive_. Steve Rogers, OG war-hero Captain America, is still active. Natasha Romanoff, perhaps the finest spy of all time, is alive and well. Hawkeye is only Kinda Retired instead of For Real Retired. Vision hasn’t had the infinity stone brutally ripped from his forehead, hasn’t become a colorless, lifeless empty shell. These are the _Avengers_. Peter takes a moment to appreciate the fact that he's fighting beside his childhood idols, and that the world isn't ending this time around.

  
  


They are undaunted by the task ahead of them. The Avengers get to work.

  
  


"Peter, I need to know,” says Tony, as he blasts a couple of goons. “Who is she? Why did he take her?"

  
  


It's important to the situation at hand, but Peter doesn't know how to even _begin_ to approach this topic. He doesn't have the heart to tell Mr. Stark about the future he doesn't know he wants, the future he doesn't get to have. But he has to.

  
  


"She's– Look out!"

  
  


A portal opens up under Black Widow. It's too wide to have any possible handholds. Peter sees empty, black sky through the gaping mouth of the portal. She tumbles down, grasping at empty handfuls of air.

  
  


A chill runs through Peter. He would be _damned_ if he let Natasha Romanoff fall to her death again.

  
  


He darts to the edge of the portal and reaches out with a web, heart in his throat. It catches her ankle. He yanks her back up, and helps her over the portal's edge just before it collapses. Nat's breathing hard, but promptly pulls herself back to her feet. She gives Peter a nod of appreciation and returns to the fight.

  
  


Cap, still holding off three other guys, lobs his shield at Lantz, trying to knock him back before he can get to Morgan. Lantz remains unconcerned and lets the shield get swallowed by a portal. Another portal opens in Hawkeye's (when did he get here?) blindspot, and the shield comes careening through right at him.

  
  


“Oh no, you don't.” Peter snags it with a web, redirects it back towards Lantz.

  
  


He tries to open a portal again, but appears to be struggling. The portal he makes is too small to fit the shield. Its circumference inches wider and wider, but not fast enough to catch the shield again. He lurches left to dodge.

  
  


While he's distracted, Scarlet Witch sweeps Morgan up with a graceful swirl of her red-magic-stuff, swiftly pulling her away from danger. Peter flashes back to the last time he saw Scarlet Witch fight– the glimpses he caught of her crushing Thanos in his own armor. He's glad to have her here.

  
  


Lantz opens a stuttering portal beneath Wanda, forcing her to set Morgan down to focus on prevent her fall. With shaky hands, he opens up two more unsteady-looking portals, and deposits Morgan back at his feet.

  
  


Everyone else is occupied. Cap is busy blocking bullets (which somehow works for him, despite his shield being the size of a dinner plate) with Nat's beside him, dual-wielding her pistols. Sam is dipping and diving through the air, dodging bullets and taking out goons one by one. Vision and Wanda are working in tandem.. Hawkeye had found another vantage point, and continues to snipe people off.

  
  


Lantz's men were losing. Badly. Was he not expecting the Avengers? Maybe winning wasn't the goal here. He wanted revenge against Tony, and he was using Morgan to achieve that. Which means–

  
  


He was going to kill Morgan. Peter needs to get over there. 

  
  


He punches the guy in front him harder than necessary, webs him to the ground, and starts running towards Morgan and Lantz. Mr. Stark meets him there, his gauntlet already charged up and aimed at Lantz.

  
  


He's backed up to the edge of the building. Lantz tries to make another portal, but it stutters and flickers before collapsing completely and smoothing back into normal space. Maybe he was getting tired? Overused his power? Either way, he's cornered.

  
  


It's completely dark out, and Lantz looks desperate and angry in the low light. Peter welcomes the lack of focus that brings, but doesn’t want Lantz to make any irrational choices.

  
  


He still has Morgan. The coward is using her as a shield; his forearm is wrapped around her neck, positioning her in front of him. He holds a gun to her head.

  
  


"Stark, you've wronged me.”

  
  


“Dude, I don't even know who you are,” says Mr. Stark, putting his other hand up placatingly.

  
  


“Shut up! You've wronged me,” he repeats, “and I couldn't get the revenge I deserve in my time. I figured that– I couldn't hurt you anymore, but I can hurt what you love. Your legacy. And I want you to know, I want you to _watch_.”

  
  


"What the hell is he talking about?" Tony demands, not letting his eyes stray from Lantz and Morgan. "Who is she?"

  
  


Peter can't dodge the question anymore. He can't.

  
  


“Lower your gauntlet,” threatens Lantz before Peter can respond.

  
  


“And why would I do that? What's to say you won't shoot anyway?”

  
  


To Peter's horror, a vindictive smirk crawls its way onto Lantz's face.

  
  


"You'd risk the life of your own daughter, Stark?"

  
  


" _What?_ " Tony chokes, letting his gauntlet drop.

  
  


Peter's blood goes icy.

  
  


Mr. Stark lets his iron mask retract, gasping as if he were unable to get enough air. He's never seen Tony look like this before. Aghast. Pale. Mr. Stark is one of the smartest people Peter has ever met, and combined with all the shocking things that Tony's seen in his life, it's not often that he's rendered speechless. He gapes at Morgan with wide eyes.

  
  


An ugly, venomous chuckle bubbles out from Lantz.

  
  


Morgan sees an opportunity and jumps at it. She clamps her teeth down on her captor's thumb. Lantz screeches and drops her.

  
  


“Morgan!” Peter calls, because Lantz still has a _gun_ and Peter's too far to help and Mr. Stark is checked out and he's _definitely_ panicking.

  
  


Morgan moves to kick Lantz between the legs, but get's shoved to the ground.

  
  


With visible strain on his face, Lantz opens more wobbly, unstable portal just beneath Morgan's feet. It's just big enough. She screams as she falls through, and is immediately dropped from another portal about eight feet up. Morgan hits the ground hard, and Peter's just about ready to commit murder.

  
  


Peter hates the man. Hates the way he spits Mr. Stark's name. Hates the way he put his hands on Morgan. Hates him for bringing him _here,_ ripping open wounds that haven't healed yet _._

  
  


But now, Morgan is nowhere close to that wretched excuse for a human. The coward has nothing left to hide behind. No leverage.

  
  


Peter approaches him, slow and dangerous. He's on a warpath.

  
  


Lantz shoots. Peter shifts left, dodging easily.

  
  


He shoots again. Two times. Three times. Four times. None hit.

  
  


And then Peter's upon him.

  
  


Peter rips the gun away from him and smashes his fist into Lantz's face. Lantz's head snaps backward, and he collapses lifelessly to the ground. He doesn't get up.

  
  


The moment Lantz hits the ground, Peter's up and running. He's at Morgan's side within seconds. Miraculously, she's awake and sitting criss-cross applesauce.

  
  


She's still in her PJ's like the last time he saw her. Her pants were once plush, pink, and princess themed, but not anymore. The mismatched Iron-Man pajama-top is grimy and torn; he can hardly see the little printed arc-reactor under the dirt. Peter doesn't know if it can be salvaged.

  
  


Her hands are tied together behind her with zip-ties. Tightly. He sees dried, rust-colored blood staining her wrists, and it takes every ounce of his willpower stop himself from going back and bashing Lantz's skull into the concrete a few more times.

  
  


(He knows that with his strength he's easily capable of killing, but the only other time he's ever really _wanted_ to was after he'd found Ben's murderer. Something grim and angry whispers to him now, begging him to follow through. It's sweet and alluring and _scary_.)

  
  


Instead, he breathes and focuses on what's important. He snaps the bright green zip-ties that bind Morgan with ease, tossing them away to the side. Slowly, gently, he takes her bloody hands and wrists and holds them in his own. He can't help but tear up.

  
  


He wasn't able to protect her.

  
  


Morgan doesn't seem to mind, and tackles him in a hug instead. Her small, bruised arms wrap around his neck. She's shaking.

  
  


"Peter," she sobs.

  
  


“Morgan,” he whispers back, his voice raw.

  
  


He holds her as close as he can. Peter staves off the urge to clutch her as tightly as possible; he doesn't always know his own strength, and he's worried about hurting her.

  
  


"Daddy!!" She gasps, suddenly ducking out of their hug.

  
  


Peter twists his head around and spots Tony leaning against the wall at the edge of the building's roof, legs sprawled out on the ground in front of him. He looks rather uneasy, which Peter supposes is appropriate considering the recent revelation.

  
  


Morgan runs up to him, plants herself on his lap, and throws her arms around his neck. Mr. Stark looks completely baffled. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he lowers his arms and hugs her back.

  
  


"I missed you," Morgan says softly, tearfully. Peter stills, wondering if she just tipped Tony off to his future. Thankfully, Tony doesn't seem to take it that way.

  
  


Her hands find their way to his hair. She lets her fingers roam through his dark waves and curls.

  
  


"You look different. Where'd your wizard hair go?"

  
  


Peter knows that any other time Tony would be indignant at the suggestion of him having gray hair, but he's too busy staring at Morgan. He's in awe.

  
  


Tony's not the only one.

  
  


Sam and Clint watch this scene unfold in complete disbelief.

  
  


Cap's jaw has dropped, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Finding out about Clint's family had been shocking, but _Tony_? Father to this cute little girl?

  
  


Wanda's grinning, quietly laughing at the others' reactions. She shakes Vision's arm in excitement. Vision himself doesn't seem that affected, but smiles anyway.

  
  


Natasha raises a single incredulous eyebrow, a ghost of a smirk gracing her face. She's enjoying this.

  
  


"Mr. Stark?" Past-Peter tentatively cuts in. "Hey, yeah, I know you're busy, but uh. . . I was wondering if you knew what was going on with all" – he gestures vaguely to to Future-Peter and Morgan – "this?"

  
  


"He's you," offers Mr. Stark in a far-away voice, still completely enamored with Morgan. "From the future."

  
  


"Wait, really? Oh my gosh," 2016 Peter says, spinning towards 2023 Peter. "That's- insane! Incredible!"

  
  


He gives his future-self an animated once-over.

  
  


"Woah, I look so much cooler! Look at the black on the suit! Did you go through some sort of edgy character arc? It looks sick, I love it. And the redesign on the web-shooters! Woah! Mr. Stark, this guy's out here living in 3016!"

  
  


"Hah," Peter chuckles, "something like that. 2023, actually."

  
  


"Seriously? That is _awesome_ , dude."

  
  


This is him. From 2016. Peter wants to take another step back to process for a minute because _what kind of life is he living here? This is insane_.

  
  


His optimism is welcome but disconcerting. This Peter is– it's hard for him to describe– lighter? Happier? Not yet old and crusty and full of regret?

  
  


He hasn't faced the bitter failures that Peter has.

  
  


He hasn't died.

  
  


He hasn't had that awful, all-powerful golden gauntlet in his grasp, hasn't felt it slipping from Thanos' fingers. He didn't taste victory, only to have it ripped away in the worst way possible.

  
  


( _Tony might not have died if he'd gotten the gauntlet off faster._ )

  
  


Amidst Peter's reflecting, Tony drags himself to his feet and makes his way over to Lantz.

  
  


Lantz's face is a disaster. Blood rushes from the unsalvageable mess that used to be his nose, draining over his lips and dripping steadily onto his shirt. His left eye won't open. He's barely conscious.

  
  


Mr. Stark grabs Lantz by the front of his shirt.

  
  


"You– If you even look at my kids again–”

  
  


2016 Spider-Man takes a nervous step back. Peter remembers how scary Mr. Stark was when angry. Even with a cute five year-old girl wrapped around him, head buried in the crook of his neck, he manages to look murderous.

  
  


Mr. Stark doesn’t finish the threat.

 

* * *

  
  


“ _Uh, hey Pep”_

  
  


“ _Tony! What happened?”_

  
  


“ _So uh, you know the kid I was telling you about? The one from from the future?”_

  
  


“ _What, like there's more than one? But yes, what about Peter?”_

  
  


“ _Funny you should say that, actually. He came here in the first place because someone kidnapped this girl. We just got her, we're headed back now.”_

  
  


“ _There's another one? Huh. Is she alright?”_

  
  


“ _She's shaken, but mostly alright. We still need to get her checked out to make sure. She seems pretty tough.”_

  
  


“ _Okay, that's good.”_

  
  


“ _Listen Pep, the reason I called_ – _it’s about the girl. Morgan.”_

  
  


“ _Morgan, like my uncle?”_

  
  


“ _Huh, yeah. Exactly like your uncle. Anyway, funny story. Morgan, she's_ – _She's our_ –“

  
  


“ _She's what? Tony, are you alright? You sound stressed. You're breathing so heavy, are you having a panic attack?”_

  
  


“ _No, no. I'm all good. Mostly. Kinda. It’s just- God, why is this so hard?”_

  
  


“ _Tony, take a deep breath. What happened? You don’t have to tell me now if you can't right now.”_

  
  


“ _Morgan. She's our kid. From the future.”_

  
  


_. . ._

  
  


“ _Pep? Pep, you still there?”_

  
  


“ _Oh my God.”_

  
  


“ _I know.”_

  
  


“ _I think I need to sit down.”_

  
  


“ _Okay, you do that. I just_ – _I wanted to give you a heads up. I don't know how to deal with this by myself.”_

  
  


“ _You've been involved a lot of impossible situations before, but I think this one tops the rest. You're sure she's ours?”_

  
  


“ _Wanda confirmed it.”_

  
  


“ _How old is she?”_

  
  


“ _Like five? Maybe six?”_

  
  


“ _And you said she's okay?”_

  
  


“ _She's a little banged up, but I think she'll be okay. She's with Peter right now, she loves the kid.”_

  
  


“ _And uh, how long till you get back?”_

  
  


“ _Within half an hour, I think. We just need to tie up a few loose ends.”_

  
  


“ _Okay. Okay. I'll see what I can pull together. See you soon.”_

  
  


“ _Bye Pep.”_

  
  


* * *

  
  


Upon their return to the tower, everyone sits down to take a breather, trying to process the recent revelation. They're sitting around the coffee table, where they were when they started. The room is dim, but lit warmly by various lamps. The group sits in an exhausted but peaceful silence.

  
  


Tony sits next to him on the sofa, sipping coffee. Morgan is curled up and dozing in his lap. One hand is twisted into Tony's shirt, the other holds Peter's hand.

  
  


"Oh my God," drawls Clint, disturbing the quiet, "you're a dad. Welcome to the club."

  
  


Tony chokes on his drink. "Absolutely not," he sputters.

  
  


"Dude, you're totally a dad. You already have two kids!" says Sam. Peter blushes, which encourages more chuckles around the room.

  
  


"Three if you count Harley," chips in Pepper from across the room. Pepper's presence is often announced by the crisp _click_ of her heels, but Peter didn't notice her coming in. He must be tired.

  
  


"Stooooop," Tony whines to Pepper. Morgan pops up at her mom's voice. She squirms out from between Tony and Peter on the sofa, and scrambles towards Pepper.

  
  


"Mommy!!"

  
  


Pepper takes it like a champ. They had hoped that calling ahead would help; they didn't want to completely bamboozle her with the news.

  
  


"Hi, sweetheart," she smiles softly.

  
  


Peter detects a hint of nervousness in her voice. Being the woman behind running Stark Industries for as long as she had been, Peter didn't know she was capable of being nervous anymore. She’s clearly thrown off by this, but was by no means upset.

  
  


"Oh no, your jammies are all dirty,” frowns Pepper. “Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

  
  


“Okay! Do you think we have any Spider-Man band-aids?”

  
  


Both Peters blush.

  
  


“I'm sure we can find some,” laughs Pepper. She slips off her heels before scooping a giggling Morgan up into her arms. They pad out of the room.

  
  


Peter tries to imagine how strange this must be. Earlier this year, she and Mr. Stark were having some trouble together. Peter knows that they were on a break, but recently got back together. Recently got _engaged_ , actually.

  
  


And now they have a five year-old daughter.

  
  


Parkour, right?

  
  


"So, what did you think you were doing, walking towards the guy shooting bullets at you?? How suicidal _are_ you?" asks Mr. Stark, arms crossed.

  
  


"I dunno, he looked like he knew what he was doing," says Clint.

  
  


"Admit it, he's just a badass," 2016 Spider-Man chips in.

  
  


"Nuh-uh,” chuckles Sam. “You're biased. And, like, twelve.”

  
  


“What? Where'd you get that idea?”

  
  


“You're a _baby_ , Pete," teases Wanda.

  
  


" _What?_ Pete? Who's that? No Peters here."

  
  


"Yeah, sorry kid. We unmasked future you earlier, thought he was an impostor or something. You know how it is," apologizes Steve.

  
  


"Argh, nooooooooo," says 2016 Peter in despair, sinking further into the sofa. "I'm ruined. My life is over."

  
  


The conversation continues like this for awhile. Happy. Gentle. Heavy subjects are avoided, and Peter welcomes it. He knows he has to have hard conversations tomorrow, but for now, he feels good. Better than he's felt in a long time.

  
  


Peter starts to sink into the couch, warm, lulled by the chatter of people he's missed. He listens to Natasha's laugh. It's crisp but soft, and Peter decides it's one of the best things he’s heard in his entire life.

  
  


He dozes off on Mr. Stark's shoulder, trying to forget that he has to tell Tony how he dies tomorrow.

  
  
  



End file.
